Perfect Swords
by Elphaba'sGirl
Summary: The sword was perfect. It was the first perfect sword Yeste had ever made. It was the last perfect sword Yeste ever made. It was one of two perfect swords in the whole world.


**Hi, fandom! This is my first Princess Bride story, and of course I don't own the MASTERPIECE that William Goldman created, but I hope you enjoy!**

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The Dread Pirate Roberts, better known to those who loved him (though those people, unfortunately, all thought he was dead), as simply Westley, had brought his ship to harbor near the coast of Spain (this was after Spain). He was, surely, the most fearsome pirate to sail the ocean. Of course, this was thanks to the previous Dread Pirate Roberts, and the one before him, and all the Dread Pirate Roberts' in a long line of them. The title was passed down. So was the ship (the Revenge. A violent, name, if you asked Westley, but this was after violence was a fad), and the duties, and the sword.

It was an old sword, with a long history. It had seen many battles, had killed many men.

But it was a very old sword.

And, Westley decided, it was high time that a new sword be introduced to the Roberts line.

So, here he was in Spain, seeking a man called Yeste, who was the most famed sword maker in all the world.

So he knocked on the door, was admitted inside, and a fat little man with a cherry nose and one two many strands of beads around his pudgy neck waddled in and sat across from him.

Westley, of course, found that the wait was up to two years for a good sword, and the price was unspeakable.

But Westley could afford unspeakable. He was a pirate. He had chests of gold to spare, and so he offered just a bit extra for the sword to be rushed.

It was a special sword, that he wanted made. It was to be beautiful, first of all, like his Buttercup, with a handle of the finest gold, which would remind him of her hair when he looked at it, and it had to be strong, like his Buttercup, so that he could be strong enough to come back to her. The sword must be patient and faithful and- above all- perfect.

Yeste, though he'd never admitted it, had never made a perfect sword.

But Westley said that he had faith in him, and that he'd return in a year.

He passed the year in his usual way. He sailed. He plundered (to keep up his image; it wouldn't do for the Dread Pirate Roberts to simply disappear). He wrote letters to Buttercup (which he never sent, but they went the way he always wrote to her. "The sea is stormy today, and I love you." "I've made another fortune, and I love you." "I had dinner with a count last night, and I love you." Like that). And then, when the year was up, he returned to Spain.

The sword was perfect.

It was the first perfect sword Yeste had ever made.

It was the last perfect sword Yeste ever made.

It was one of two perfect swords in the whole world.

The other was special. It was not as beautiful as Westley's sword, or as patient or faithful, but it was just as strong. It was strong and perfectly balanced, and most importantly, it was in the hands of a Wizard.

It would be another year and a half before the two perfect swords met in combat, but those eighteen months would fly by.

And when Inigo Montoya met Westley, they were both prepared to die.

They weren't prepared to kill.

They said they were, but they weren't. Inigo had killed one too many times, for Vizzini and for others. He'd been prepared to kill for so long, looking for the six-fingered man, that he'd forgotten to be prepared to kill anyone else. Westley had never killed a man. On the seas, he left the killing to his crew. He liked it that way. His hands were clean.

The first time Westley killed a man was not with the perfect sword, but with iocane powder.

And after that, he was prepared. Always ready. With the sword, or with his wits.

He'd need both, he knew, to protect Buttercup.

Heaven knew he couldn't trust her to protect herself. Leave the girl alone for two years, she's got herself engaged and almost murdered. Honestly.

Oh, perhaps she'd caused him heartache, but he loved her. He loved her with all his heart and with all his mind and soul.

And that was why he was willing to kill, to stain his shiny new perfect sword with red blood.


End file.
